Thursday, September 30, 2004

Back to the Vet

Yvette is falling over again... I think her anti-inflammatory has worn off... her hind legs are weak again... oh, man I hate this, I hate it.

Mad (and her) Dogs

Feeling nostalgic: this us for our Valentine's Day photo, 1998 -- Tyler the Sheltie, me the Mom and Yvette the Pug. Yvette had only been with us a month (she came from the Little Angels Pug Rescue), and Tyler was almost eight-years-old then. He left us a year ago last July at age 13 from cancer of the nose.  R.I.P. Tyler -- your sis and I miss you like crazy.

Wednesday, September 29, 2004


OMG, you just prevented a total case of craziness!

I was trying to add the bloglines button on to my blog (I just figured out what a FEED IS! YAY!) and I have no idea what I hit in my template, but it disappeared! The whole damn blog! Nothing there but the header... all gone except a bunch of gobbledy-gook.

So I resigned myself tonight to start putting in my little eskimo fella and my blogroll... and then I rememberd -- Dave at Dave's Grab Bag said COPY YOUR HTML somewhere, and you'll always have it (and not have to recreate the wheel).

Oh, I'm so glad I did!!! Everything was there (except two blogs, which I'll find), et voilà! Everything's great!

I'm so grateful -- thanks for that simple, simple advice. :) Now I guess it's time to back up all my documents too, right?!?!? (Duh. Gotta buy discs. ASAP. <---haha)

Now I even have time leftover to watch The Apprentice!


I went to a screening at The Lot (9/27) of Breaking the Fifth, whose website I did (go ahead, check it out :) My friend Meredyth is the female lead, her boyfriend Matthew is her co-star, and he also wrote it and co-produced it. It stars Frank Langella (swoon!). Behind the scenes of Breaking the Fifth

I went by myself (no biggie) and took those notes as I waited for the screening to begin.

So Hollywood -- but can tell this is an audience of "friendlies" -- no suits. Only Chief (Austin, the director) has a sports coat on. Summer wear, young people and definitely all "behind the scenes" folks like me.

Austin was nice... he introduced me to his beautiful, blonde, tall wife as the woman who did the website.

"It's beautiful!"

Well, yeah, it better be.

Feels weird to be on a lot again -- so familiar, almost like "home" -- special -- and yet who are all these newbies with ponytails and mousse, and sunglasses on their head in a studio screening room at 8 o'clock at night? God, these folks are getting younger and younger...

Meredyth is beautiful today with her down and nicely coiffed. She gave me her disc for her ad [note: I'm working on designing promotions for her] -- how weird to be talking about [the content] advertising when she's the leading female in this film! I told her, "Why don't you give it to me now because I'm sure lots of folks will want to talk to you afterwards." Oh me, always thinking like an Assistant. With a capital "A."

Lots of T-shirts. Definitely no distribution $$ here. People have not changed their LA "uniform" at all since 1983--

Hey, where's Art [one of the actors]? I don't know what I'll say to him if he were here, hell, I don't know what I'd say to anyone -- actually I must be doing okay if I'm not really worrying about what to say, as in "What are you doing now? Where do you work?" Okay, not worried except to take this second to write this down.

It's probably 8:10 pm now, running fashionably late but I'm sure we'll start soon. Waiting for anyone -- someone important to make it -- this is horrible waiting like this!

But I'm proud to be here -- I wonder if all eleven (11) headlines [newspapers/magazine mock-ups that I did for the credits] make the beginning of the movie like Meredyth said it did two weeks ago, unfinished as it [the movie] was. I hope so -- it'll be a nice claim. :)

YAY! Time to start -- Matthew and Austin up there, Matthew thanks his mentor, Stuart R... Chief is so funny! Got thanked (I like to believe) as one of the 450 people he can't name who helped with the film.

Holding my breath...

Jack's Back

And we worked through all that crap. Don't worry, I'm not one of those women who go back for more torture and pain -- either something changes or you're playing a broken record.

The change is -- he grows up, takes responsibility, thinks before he gets defensive with anger; I grow up take responsibilty and get a boundary-backbone. Then we can stay friends. WITH RESPECT. Good thing about Jack -- he always rises to the occasion. Now we've both got to stay there.

Otherwise I'm just full of shit.

[BTW, I changed all my passwords. He didn't. I think that's funny!]

Have Hands, Will Travel

This is at a wedding reception in Sacramento last May -- when you can't eat one more bite and they're playing too hard of rock to dance too, READ HANDS! Reading hands

I like this picture... I forget people have a need to hear about themselves in this way and they like to hear it from ME. Guess I'm still going to hand (analysis) school for a reason. :)

And actually, I may be booking a weekend in Chicago with a friend's sister and her friends (oh good grief, where did I put those brochures?). She caught me on IM last week (I rarely have it on).

TBl [2:04 PM]: you know, funny because your name came up in conversation a week ago.
TBl [2:04 PM]: i had a tarot reader come to my house
Mad [2:04 PM]: really? how? what? hope it was semi-good ;)
TBl [2:04 PM]: and p. mentioned you read palms
TBl [2:04 PM]: i love that stuff
Mad [2:04 PM]: for you or for a party?
Mad [2:04 PM]: oh shoot, he's been promising to bring me out there to do a presentation evening...
Mad [2:05 PM]: here's what I'm about: Welcome to The Apposta School
TBl [2:05 PM]: for me and two other people, not much of a party but she was willing to do it
Mad [2:05 PM]: presentation evening - 30 minute class, then everyone gets a 10-12 minute reading... and the host gets a full 90 minute reading for free
TBl [2:06 PM]: can you read pretty well?
Mad [2:06 PM]: our mission is different than this though:
Mad [2:06 PM]: * To rescue the lost and abandoned Self, and
* Manifestation of your Life's Purpose.
TBl [2:06 PM]: wow, that's deep
Mad [2:06 PM]: I'm a great reader (and modest too)
Mad [2:07 PM]: yup... your life purpose is in your FINGERPRINTS -- it they never change
TBl [2:07 PM]: wow, that's neat.
Mad [2:07 PM]: (the lines in your hands do, as well as the shape -- but not your prints)
TBl [2:07 PM]: tell me more!
TBl [2:07 PM]: ohhh
Mad [2:07 PM]: i've been studying for 3 years... I've read 250+ hands
TBl [2:07 PM]: can i give you a copy of my hands, ha!
TBl [2:07 PM]: lol
Mad [2:07 PM]: do yo have a scanner at home?
TBl [2:08 PM]: i have a copy machine here at work
Mad [2:08 PM]: ooh better!
TBl [2:08 PM]: really
TBl [2:08 PM]: i'm excited
Mad [2:08 PM]: hehehe
TBl [2:08 PM]: i love this stuff
TBl [2:08 PM]: can i send it to you?

And send she did... and I gave her a 15-minute reading on IM! We'd just learned vocation via hand shape this month and I'm happy to say I nailed her well, she who "didn't want to work." Felt good!

I will have to remind her about "no predictions" when I get there though, as I don't read Tarot :). People always ask hand readers about their love lives ("work on you, not on the other person!") and money ("hey, Source is pretty big, why don't you think they'll be any for you?") and if they're gonna die (as my friend says in her flyer: "Ask God -- or if you don't believe in God, ask your doctor.") This kind of palmistry isn't about predictions, it's about your Life Purpose.

Well, there -- that sure sounded like a commercial!

Beautiful, Airy Hands

A beautiful AIR handThis is a print of one my friend's hands -- why couldn't I have a hands like hers?!? Beautiful, clean, tidy, neat, perfect hands -- and a life to match?

No, I get to have crazy slashy fire hands doused by water heartlines -- ACK! Any place but here is good for me.

(Okay, just for today -- I don't need the drama queen action either.)

I'll scan in my hands sometime -- man, the stuff that's in there.

Allergic to Water... again

I've been in a funky place lately... and I don't do dishes or wash clothes or the car or the dog and sometimes barely me (but I meet people all the time, so I manage to get in the shower regularly).

Where in the hell is that g.d. mail-order blood pressure medicine anyway?!?!? At least the lexapro is in good supply (yes, welcome to my LA world, where anti-depressants are de rigeur.)

Nice to get back to reading my blog roll folks though... for some reason they're a good comfort and encouragement to keep writing and not get stuck... (hi y'all!)

Even though I'm sleeping earlier (but waking up at all weird times)... oh shit, I just thought of me being allergic to water -- I have water heartlines (in my hand) and we're just too damn sensitive! It's been a week of thrashing, violent emotions with all my friends (in that I mean a torrent of rainstorms and waterworks, not physical violence), and I just absorb that all... no wonder I'm allergic to water. I need to get grounded again... I feel like I'm drowning.

Thursday, September 23, 2004

Vietnamese Tunnels

A drawing of cu chi tunnels

Jack called two hours after he left and apologized on my cell phone. Then he called tonight while on his graveyard shift (I'm usually up in the wee hours -- note current post time -- so that's usually okay). We talked for a few minutes. He said he apologized to the **** group. I said yeah, I know.


But he didn't notice.

He called again a few hours later, in a happy springy mood at 4:37 am and I was actually asleep. But I heard the machine and he sounded so chipper (rare rare rare!) so I picked up.

Chat chat chat.

I wasn't mad anymore... I had too much of a day to be mad (and endless blog fodder), and he had apologized, right? Then he slips in "So how did you know I sent them a note?"

Oh shit. I should've lied, but too bad I made a conscious effort to try to cut more of that out... I'm sure he was thinking that someone told me somehow... well, I can at least say I hesitated! For a long few seconds.

Cu chi tunnel"I read it. In your e-mail."

UGH. What's worse, doing evil and letting it lie, or doing evil and then flaunting it all over the place -- or worse, in his face?

"You can't be trusted. That's not right. You're not gonna get away with that, you can't just drop it like that."

"Well, you can't screw someone over like that without some residual effects, Jack."

(Like defensiveness and certainly a vow not to get fucked over like that again.)

"But what do you have to say for yourself?" (Hard to believe he's only two years older than me, I know.)

Short of telling him about my post here and reciting back my entire rant (a lovely lie of omission), I just dug in deeper and deeper -- oh, my Hand Analysis teacher would have a field day with all this reactivity (as opposed to authenticity)...

"You don't fuck with me, Jack. You don't mess with the "little people" who try to help you... you don't think I'm entrusted with a lot more important shit than your e-mail address? I am, and I have been... but no one screws this girl around." I grew up in an Asian family, remember?

I was gonna tell him that even when he lived in Asia for four years he could never understand or fathom the depths of the passive-aggressiveness and that way of living -- it's not like America where you go face to face and "call it like it is" and it's over. We'll look you in the face and smile, turn around and gut you from behind and when you say "how could you do that?" we'd answer, "What?" with that same plastered grin on our face as we're twisting the knife.

(Oh, okay, I'll just say ME. THIS Asian girl, not Asian people everywhere. BAH.)

Entrance to a tunnelAnyway, I was like the proverbial pig in mud, just celebrating how reactive, vindictive, cruel, mean and manipulative I could be. It was weird, like I was acknowledging my Entire Being, not just this goody-two shoes most of the world sees -- and seeing it from that Goody Two Shoes part of myself at the same time... Even though I do admit I'm getting better and not being all that sweet anymore -- it's only he and my mother who get my shouting and my wrath. I don't like that very much, but oddly, it feels, um... balanced? Is that the truest me there is, and the rest of the planet gets to see my mushy, water heartlines?

So at least I told him to change all his passwords. Because I didn't want to "help" him anymore.

And he proceeded to hang up on me. But not before getting out, "You disgust me. You're acting like an immature child would and I can't stand the thought of you. You won't get away with this." (Click.)

I got up. I turned the computer on. He thinks he's fighting fire with fire -- well he's so mistaken and doesn't even know what he's getting into (remember the Vietnamese tunnels?!?! and how the U.S. lost that one)... Suffice it to say, here I am, blogging away.

And I've got a bunch of fine new passwords now.

Naked Nellie

Well, that's the way I'm feeling this morning about that last post. I'm not sure I can facing up to how reactive I was -- and how evil and mean and passive-aggressive I am in black and white, and to people who know me in person... I was actually trying to find a way to change this blog name (and keep all the posts!) so I could hide it from people in my life who know me (especially anyone who thinks "highly" of me) so I could stay honest, no matter how shitty-nasty-icky-disgusting-pathetic-vindictive I look.

What kind of "spiritual" person AM I that I could be so mean? asks The One Who Knows Better.

"One who's stuck in a human body with human limitations and emotions," answers The One Who Knows Even More Better.

Well... okay. Naked Nellie I remain for now. But I better post more posts so this one gets buried -- I don't want to change date/time stamp... you know, for posterity and all that shit.

Wednesday, September 22, 2004

"Time to throw a wineglass!"

That's what good old Jack said this morning as he exited my apartment, referencing another time I was furious at him and out a wineglass came, onto a kitchen wall and shattering all over the floor. But hey, I just needed to throw something and hear it break -- I'm a good enough softball first baseman and racquetball player to hit my mark if indeed it had been him.

BASTARD! I once sent an e-mail on his behalf to an organization, asking them to please send update his Event Coordinator -- oh hell, I'll just post the e-mails as they happened. If he thinks this is an invasion of "privacy" well he can f*ck off and change his password and everything else he's "shared" with me so I can "help" him -- IT'S MY FUCKING BLOG.

I sent this on his behalf:

Date: Wed, 15 Sep 2004 19:25:33 -0400 (EDT)
To: support@****.com
Subject: [Tech Assistance] Please post my EC profile asap!
From: "JACK"

I sent it in over a month ago and it's not in the directory of ECs. I finally have my first event posted and I would like members to know who I am!


So they write back, five days later.

From: "support"
To: "Jack"
Subject: Please post my EC profile asap! (fwd)
Date: Mon, 20 Sep 2004 15:24:49 -0400

Hi Jack,

We understand your eagerness to post events and have your EC profile on our site, but please be patient. Speaking sharply in emails to other volunteers - post my profile ASAP - is not respectful of other individuals on our team. You may not realize this, but we manage hundreds of ECs from all over the country. And our staff is comprised entirely volunteers who help part-time whenever they can.

We try to get everyone's profiles up there within a week of submission, but we're experiencing a big backlog of EC profiles -- profiles that must be hand coded and individually laid out.

In the meantime, if you want attendees to know who to look for, please reference your regular member photo. We're doing our best to get your profile up as soon as possible.

Support Staff

I get screamed at because good old Jack thinks NO ONE SHOULD EVER SAY "ASAP" TO ANYONE EVER IN AN E-MAIL, and CERTAINLY not on his behalf.

He didn't "ask" me to write that e-mail, and he guesses now he has to tell me every little thing I should or shouldn't do. So am I not going to take responsibility for any of this?

Any of what, I ask?

Because now HE got that "nasty" response from the organization, and because HE couldn't get a hold of me in the last two days, he just HAD to respond to it (I just copied this out of his mailbox, but in going back to capture time and date, he's at the library covering his ass and it's been deleted. But I got the original note):

From Jack to support@****.com


Since you're so busy, just forget about it.
It will be faster for me to send it via Pony Express.

Okay, now -- who's the nasty one?! ME? I certainly think "asap" is not nasty -- I've been writing e-mails since 1997 both in business and personally and I think the organization's response was pretty damn defensive. They could have sent the "informational part" about them being backlogged, but shit, who needs the lecture?

But HE wrote that nasty response to them. Because he couldn't "talk" to me about it. Because I wasn't available. That's why his fingers went to the keyboard to type that retarded response.

However, I digress. The point is, I kept getting bullied around. I tried to relax, to not interrupt him, to let him have his say, but finally, when I've grown a backbone after 10 years of knowing this guy and doing a lot of work on myself -- I finally realize that HE THINKS MY INTENT IS TO FUCK HIM OVER.

How dare he, I tell him! Whenever he comes crawling back, he always mentions that I'm the one who took him in for nine months when he came back from abroad, who let him sleep in the bed those nine months while I was on the couch, who helped him with cover letters, résumés and sold him two cars for cheap. For that, he says he's always grateful, to me, his closer-than-close friend.

He had tried to walk out minutes before because he said I was "in a mood." I talked him back because I tried to find a way to not be defensive and screaming. I did, he came back. But this time I told him he needed to leave. GET OUT OF MY HOUSE. You're an asshole if you think I was TRYING to make you look bad -- I was trying to finish what I started because YOU couldn't figure out how to do any of that shit yourself. GET OUT!

And that's when he told me it was time to throw another wineglass.


Post-script to this: Here's the note he just wrote from the library computer:

Date: Wed, 22 Sep 2004 10:06:25 -0700 (PDT)
From: "Jack" <"Jack">
Subject: An Apology and Explanation
To: support@****.com

I apologize for the several recent emails that were sent to Support on my behalf. I think they had my name and address on them.
They were NOT "my" emails.
I had given my password and address to a friend. He or she (I'd rather not say who) was helping me post and edit my event. It was my friend who wrote you.
I want to apologize for this whole incident. I'm very sorry.

Well, well, well -- seems he knows how to write "nice" notes too. Good for him. You're on your own now, buddy.

Sunday, September 19, 2004

Hand Analysis, Enneagram and Lamb Chops

So tired... just got back from a hard ass weekend... the enneagram stuff especially was so heady and deep... I got to the BBQ tonight just craving a slab of meat to ground me, and then did the very NON-THINKING dishes... and then another meeting at tomorrow 11:00 a.m.

I gotta pace myself better -- I'm pooped.

Iliushka & "A House is Not a Home"

Ilia Kulik and Burt Bacharach - A Tribute to Burt Bacharach, San Jose (2003) I feel like these teenagers posting what they're listening to... but hey, keeps you young at heart, right?

I've got exactly ten (10) songs in my Itunes library and I'm shuffling/repeating six of them... especially this delicious one, A House is Not a Home, sung by Luther "THE MAN" Vandross and, shockingly, written by Burt frickin' Bacharach! Amazing...

Stars on Ice:  Seisouso by Cirque du Soleil.  This is the guy I remember the most... Ilia (Kulik) performed last year in San Jose at a Tribute to Burt and did this song live with James Ingram singing -- Luther was scheduled but had a stroke instead... sorry Luther :( It apparently was one of the highest points of Ilia's pro career (so far) -- ALL of him was in it.

Madley and Ilia, too much wine and laughing at SOMETHING crazy, LA, 1998 I'm just feeling a bit nostalgic about that time with Kulik's Krew before it even formally existed... this blogging reminds me of the friends I met (and hated) there... and of going to Ilia's practices to help him with his music and videotape...

Ah, for another day... how did time slip by me like that?

Saturday, September 18, 2004

A Rectal, A Recital

I had a physical today with Dr. Tilem -- my first in two years since my insurance had run out. But Mom couldn't stand the thought of me maybe crashing my head or something dumb like that again without insurance (because of course I'd run her broke) so we got some online that would accept my pre-existing conditions.

I stayed up all night (like I usually do) but then I didn't want to nap in case I'd miss the appointment at 9:00 am. Her nurse, Alexandra, is a nice lady from Poland who's only been here for 10 years... she used to be in Hotel Management and now she's poking around doing my EKGs. After that, I'm lying there butt naked under all that paper covering me and the Dr. says she'll be right back... I take advantage of getting a few zzzzzs, noting that hmmmm, it's been awhile.... ah well, I like to catch a little snore (understatement!) when I can.....

ONE HOUR AND FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER, Dr. Tilem comes dashing in with Alexandra, apologizing profusely... "What time is it?" I ask. She says 10:30. I say I needed the nap, but she's a bit freaked out that she did that and hurries through a pap and pelvic -- and before I know it she's in there with a rectal that I didn't expect: "I'm gonna do a rectal exam" and two seconds later I'm going "Huh?" and it's over and I'm thinking that was so fast she couldn't have been calculating any kind of information could she? Well, who cares, I passed -- pardon the pun.


So, I decide to go to Eagle Rock and finally have this first meeting with french Bruno the 2nd (my composition prof) re: this ever-hanging on senior recital. I haven't seen him since April 30 or so or even e-mailed him since two weeks ago... first person I run into on campus is Dr. Grayson, my old composition professor from 1981-83 who's retired and visiting the music department and he comes out to practically attack me with a hug! HAHAHA It's really funny he had so much affection for me -- probably just nostalgia, not me in particular -- I just remember being horrified/terrified/panicky around him back in the day because I was such a lousy student. But he was really glad to see me, and we chatted til he was interupted by another visitor.

Things haven't changed too much since then... I'm a bit of a lousy student again and not very focussed. But I finally I've decided that I'm not ready for November -- I had a great summer, but it certainly wasn't great for composing music. Good thing, Bruno says, because they're getting really strict with the recital dates and reservations and the spring is practically filled up, better book a date now.

Great with me -- February it is, I have to actually go through some rigamarole to get on the calendar with the department head and I gotta book it now. They're probably pretty wary about me anyway since I cancelled three times last year... yikes, I'm really holding my breath trying not to beat myself up for that... it just wasn't the right time, Madley... you are not a complete fuck-up or flake.

I'm not looking forward to telling the folks or my brothers... but I finally am daring to dream to have the wonderful recital I know I can do, and am willing to make it a REALITY. It doesn't feel like I'm suffocating again.

Cart Return and Flying Spirit

I loved this post from Taxi Vignettes:

Go Lolo!

Friday, September 17, 2004

Fruit and the Devil

She cracks me up! Reality, What A Concept. And about her daughter and her documented dumbass boyfriend -- yikes! But she's the reality, really... I love this writer.

HTML Misery -- HELP!!!

I just posted this comment at Dave's Grab Bag: Layout Continued:

I can't believe I ran into you, just browsing along -- I was just going to post 'HTML Misery' and whine about why the hell wasn't I 13-years-old again so I could've learned this when my brain isn't already half-fried!

I just learned how to put an image up with an ALT name but unfortunately I can't figure out how to make it 'wrap.' AARGH! I'm just stealing code from The World Wide Web Consortium but I have no attention span to do it for long, and hell, I need a teacher to ask questions of! I guess I'm probably gonna have to sit in some HTML class for dummies somewhere soon.

Anyway... thanks for posting my own frustration! Good luck -- and I'll be back for more 'hints.'

AARGH! (At least I wrote the post.) I'm having a hell of time trying to figure out how to repair (REPAIR? AM I NUTS?) some code on a blog I opened for Rick -- that d*mn Blogger NavBar won't lay across the top of the page, it bunches up and cuts off into the middle of the blog title... not to mention the font changed from the original template (Minima), but I can live with that.

Anyone out there who knows about that NavBar and can advise... I NEED YOU! (Please? :)

Thursday, September 16, 2004

Taxi Vignettes

I liked this blog that I happened onto Taxi Vignettes. I've often thought of driving a car or cab... I'd be good at it because I CARE about the people I have in the car (hint, hint, brother dear) and I know I have a terrific sense of direction (just like Dad -- Mom is a self-proclaimed "BooBoo" when it comes to N/E/W/S). I'd get to meet a variety of people, that's for sure, guess what, you get to sit on your ass and listen to music too... but practicality and other people's safety warnings ("You can't do that, you're a girl!") got in the way...

I do know that when when I lived in NY I loved getting in a cab -- it was a safe private haven from the chaos on the frickin' street. It was also a nice place to make out... if you've got someone in the car who wants you more than caring about what a cabbie thinks. (That would be yes for Tom, no for Gil.)

But boy, when I was down, my god, there was a human being there to talk to. When I left NY from a terrible visit with Tom, a cabby picked me up only a few feet from his apartment (I thought I was gonna walk a bit to Riverside, but the cab got to me first). We had a long ride from 101st to Grand Central, but as soon as I got my butt onto the seat I started heaving and bawling...

He was a nice older Jewish fellow I think -- or Indian or Pakistani (yeah, I know, how could I mix those up... I just remember he wasn't European, African or Asian). I told him I knew this was goodbye for me and this fellow, that I was going back to LA and that it wasn't going to work out.

"That only means there's someone else that's supposed to be for you, that's all."

That was no comfort. I wanted TOM, and I wanted the life I thought I was gonna have again in NY. WITH TOM.

But he continued: "And now that this guy is out of the way, the right one -- well, he'll be able to find you now."


"A pretty lady like you."

Ah, flattery will get you EVERYwhere...

By the time I got to the shuttle to get to Kennedy, I was in such a good place I even surprised myself. No longer sniffling, and a little bit relieved to go be going home. An expectation and dream was dashed... but I now felt full of hope. And hell, I was going on a long trip alone again... wasn't it just four (4!) days ago on the red-eye LA to NY that I met the French chef from Bora Bora, BRUNO the 1st? Okay... another story for another post -- definitely. (LOL ;)

So anyhoo, THAT, my friends, was a cabbie worth his weight in gold (or at least in the tip I gave him). I love when I get to meet "angels on earth" like that!

I'm gonna keep Ms. Cabbie on my list :)

P.S. Tom said he was often with "fallen Catholics" -- but he dreamed of marrying a nice Jewish girl. I thought I could be that... well, I'm worked that one out now (NO WAY -- fallen as I am, I'm still Catholic.) Presently, he's in Israel in rabbinical school -- and that "right guy" must still be on the other side of the planet...

Wednesday, September 15, 2004

"The APL Song" -- Proud Pinoy

Ang Buhay KoTook a look at "The APL Song" Music Video by Black Eyed Peas just now because my cousin just hired me to do a video in honor of her partner's 40th birthday -- I told her to watch this again.

I always am so emotional when I watch that thing. Somebody coming out mainstream about his Filipino heritage -- he didn't have to do that -- also bringing up the Filipino Veteran issue, using Filipinos and Fil-Ams to make the video -- and for sh*t's sake, he's wearing a BARONG. (OMG, I love a man in a barong... hasn't failed to wow me ever.)

It reminds me who MY audience is... and how much they need me to get my shit OUT THERE. Self-esteem in our community starts within... and can begin with art.

Check it out. I'm working.


Ooh, before I leap off that proverbial pity-pot -- can I just say that I feel like LIFE just passed my by?

Rick, from high school, just sang his first ever set since high school (20+ years) in San Francisco (I didn't get to go)... he claimed his passion again and is barreling forward... and I'm getting carpal tunnel from this damn computer, that's how much I get out. Good on ya, Rick!

And I just read that East West Players is doing a MUSICAL -- oh my GOD! -- called Imelda... holy shit.

Imelda 'the Shoes' Marcos "I have been ridiculed, vilified and persecuted because of my shoes. But in a way they saved me. Because when they went through my closets looking for skeletons, all they found were shoes."

It must've been 15 years ago I auditioned for a play called "First Ladies" about Imelda and I think it was Idi Amin's wife? I got so into auditioning I actually called up NBC news and begged my way with an assistant somewhere to go watch some footage of her so I can get her clothes and her mannerisms... wow, that was exciting!

I go to the audition at LATC downtown, which I know real well because I took a playwriting course there (Wordsmiths)... and I was so done up like Imelda (which they say you should never do, but shit, I did it anyway, I knew how rare this sucker was going to be)... they were taken aback... and were quite drawn to me. I can't remember if I sang, if I tried an accent... I just know they worked with me for awhile (the kind of while where you know they're interested in you, not because they're waiting for their dinner to be delivered)... it felt great! Talk about a niche, who else could play Imelda but me? I was destined... in my fantasy life, apparently.

The feedback was that I was too young to play her.

Not about my accent or lack there of, or my shitty acting skills -- they liked me, but my age was a factor.

NOW that I'm getting closer to that old broad's age and weight -- oh, well, maybe I already met that goal -- I'M NOT ACTING ANYMORE! How the hell did that happen?

Maybe I'll audition in 2005 anyway. They might get a Filipino lady from the Philippines -- they're all singers anyway, natch -- and hey, I know both the composer and the director, shouldn't that count for something?! Hell, don't they all know I've always dreamed of being the Filipino Ethel Merman?!!?!??

(Oh dear, I feel "PityPot" coming on...)

In any case, it's a long time from now and I've got a lot of fish to fry... bottom line, I'm feeling a tad fucked up... no, I mean jealous. Yeah. I'm jealous. And there's nothing cast or anything! So relax there, Missy.

Off the Pity-Pot, Bitch!

I just spent HOURS reading blogs and articles about blogs and Prison Pete's blog and I think I pretty much know what I want to know here about what JC called today her "blob" (LOL that cracked me up to know end, especially when she said it TWICE...).

Point is, this can really be about writing, not just ranting and feeling sorry about myself... and hell, I'm a f*cking grown up, I know I have more than COMPLAINTS in my world, right? (Right.)

So... short, sweet and to the point. Like a 12-step share... the beeper goes off in three minutes.

Saturday, September 11, 2004

Lying down for a few hours...

Yvette drank tons of water and then threw it up because she drank too fast and is burping up a storm and wheezing... Bad mother, waited too long between drinks. But she's got energy back in her, that's a good sign. Now all that water's gotta come out... I've got garbage bag liners and paper towels in the bedroom all set up... oh boy.


I realized tonight what I've done over the years for my family as presents because I didn't have any money -- but it's significant.

A family tree
A historical family calendar
A website
Personal greeting cards

Over the years I just realized that I've been trying to "elevate" my family and myself in it, all under the name of "preserving history." Isn't that cool... I'm the spinster/historian/arty-farty aunt -- all looking for my parents' approval and acceptance!

My goodness, I just realized that. No wonder I have no family of my own -- I'm still working on the one I had.

AAAARRGGGHHH! What a thing to figure out after all these years... guess it takes all this time alone for it to even come a knockin'...

Well, I KNOW I DON'T WANT A LIFE LIKE THAT/THIS ANYMORE. So moving forward am I. And I can tell this is going to be the hardest year of my life.

Headlines - NOT about 9/11

I was so proud of myself this week -- I did a great job on those made-up headlines for the film -- I was incredibly late and stressed out the director and the editor and of course myself.

SHIT, I have to learn to TAKE TIME TO BE CREATIVE. (It's not like typing a damn letter, Miss Ex-Secretary!) Just because you think you "can" do it in a certain amount of time doesn't mean it's gonna be any FUN if you don't leave time to diddle-daddle and fiddle.

I was proud of the work I did, just not in the way I did it, and I'm chicken shit to send him my invoice. I will though -- oh god -- I need the money but that's not the point -- hell, he got a DEAL with the stuff I sent him.

He said, "Be creative" but that's a really shitty direction to give someone who's as perfectionistic as I am. I had to pick the paper, pick the date, research what was going on that day, make sure the headline matched the times as well as the newspaper... I did 11 headlines from 1946 to 1996... that shoulda been $200 per headline... not the 1/10 of that that I asked for... damn.

Well, now I have mockups of the NYTimes, the NYPost and the NY Daily News if anyone's interested. I did fall in like with Frank Langella though... funny how you can do that when you're staring at someone for so long... who needs a "live" man when you can fall into like with an image? It was like when I was working on the website and hearing his voice all the time... wow.

I am a sick fuck and I have to get a LIFE.

Family Lesson too

"Not being heard in the family."

Lovely, three-part lesson.

About 35 minutes ago, I just finished the 3:05 second video that I was supposed to show at my parent's party in July -- I showed what ended up being the first of nine stinking versions. But I'm proclaiming it done:

A Medina Message

I'm really tired of working on it... there's always so many damn choices... and then not enough coverage -- I should fire the damn director... oh wait, that was ME.

But you know, I never got tired of watching them. They're adorable, they'll always be adorable. I'm just tired...

I realized how hard I've been working on this... to "squeeze a place in my own family" where I actually feel like ME... and after talking talking to BC today she helped me realize that when I'm "disconnected" I'm probably not being authentic -- just reactive -- and then, lovely conic, Hal 9000 lady... I try to "figure out" how to "manage" my feelings and "behave."


Feelings don't come from your HEAD, moron!

But then why would I know that, right? Please, Missy, be nice to yourself.

Yvette's taking me to the Vet

Poor girl, can't walk, her hind legs are lame. The girl on the phone at the vet said she (Yvette) was about 92 so hell, I guess this is as good a time as any to get arthritis. I just hope that anti-inflammatory/glucosamin-condroitin stuff works on her the way it did with Tyler... FUCK! FUCK! FUCK!

Guilt. My favorite fuckin' finger on my left hand -- the middle of my three-part lesson... aargh.

Thursday, September 09, 2004

Yvette is slowing down

I know this is arthritis, I saw it when Tyler was getting old... she can barely get up, she falls down everywhere. Oh, she's such a trooper and tries... and I'm feeling so guilty for "planning" my life for when she goes...

Don't go yet, Yvette!

Wednesday, September 08, 2004

Filipina Found Dead

One the first times I ever read a blog was Margaret Cho's and it was the day a Korean man was killed in Iraq. (Here's the entry.)

She said, "I have failed. We have all failed... I am in mourning."

I feel that way about Sharon Santos. A financial analyst from Warner Bros., 30 years old, 4'11" and 100 pounds. Was found in the trunk of her car in Chinatown and no leads anywhere.

Sharon Santos' site

I am incredibly sad. There was such an effort to find her... and now they're really putting out $$$ to find the killer/s. $25,000 will at buy a good week or so of focussed searching in L.A. Maybe.

Thank God, at least they found her.